


Darkest Before Dawn

by unbelievable2



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen, not a death story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 13:19:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15292371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbelievable2/pseuds/unbelievable2
Summary: Cheating Death of  a Life Worth Living





	Darkest Before Dawn

It had to happen sometime, of course. The sheer regularity of a daily grind involving flying bullets, truant nerve gas or the odd major explosion meant that at some point in the trajectory of their lives there would be a night – or rather in this case a very early morning – where someone was running down a garishly lit hospital corridor behind a gurney heading at full speed for an operating room.

Except that Jim had never allowed himself to believe that it would be Blair on that gurney. Despite the number of times that Sandburg hadn’t stayed in the truck, hadn’t stayed out of the line of fire, hadn’t stayed out of sight, and had put himself in mortal danger – usually, in Jim’s view, out of a misguided desire to help his fellow man – Jim had always had the strong conviction that the bullets flying around had “JJE” engraved on them. Ever since the helicopter crash, on some level he’d felt Death had been simply waiting to collect his overdue soul. Throwing himself off tall buildings and in front of speeding trains in the meantime had been his way of giving Death the finger. But sooner or later, he knew, that nightmare dash would be for him.

And at some point between meeting a bogus doctor wearing sneakers and getting to like tofu (though he would never have admitted it), the tall building/speeding train act had become a means of diverting Death’s attention: “Hey! Forget _him_! You can have _me_!” Somewhere along the line, the empty existence easily discarded had become a life worth living, and essential to protect.

Except he had been wrong, so wrong. Death had finally ignored his showing-off. In a moment of supreme irony, while Jim had been ducking and rolling and firing at their assailants, Death had reloaded with a newly-engraved bullet. Blair, crouching as instructed behind some machinery and calling for backup, as per, suddenly lurched forward and landed on his face. No one had even been firing in his direction.

On his knees by the fallen man, escaping perps forgotten, and his hands pressing hard on the wound in Blair’s abdomen, Jim focused solely on practicalities; on staunching the bleeding as much as he could; on keeping Blair with him and _Just stay, Chief, stay_. After the mad gurney dash, and sitting alone in the barren waiting room, staring at the floor, he finally allowed himself to hear what Death had whispered to him at the factory – that the extra special bonus for Jim this time was that the ricocheting bullet could have come from his own gun. He’d know soon enough; the surgeon was walking towards him.

“Detective Ellison? Good news. Internal trauma isn’t as much as we initially thought, and your first aid helped a great deal. He’ll need more transfusions, of course, and he’s not quite out of the woods yet, but I’m very optimistic. You’ll be able to inform his family?”

Jim nodded; as far as he was concerned, that task had just been done.


End file.
